A different point of view in the world of wine.

July 2007

July 19, 2007

I've been thinking lately about the idea of quality. One of the stock answers I've develop to questions about moving away from the Bay Area is "better quality of life." To be honest, I don't have a good explanation about what that means - differences in cost of living, climate, and culture obviously affect the qualities of day to day life, but can you really know that this affect will indeed be better? I moved to San Francisco from Chicago eleven years ago, and don't regret a single moment, but I can't honestly say that the "quality" of my time here has been any better than it would have been if I'd stayed in the mid-west.

So there's the set-up - quality is probably a concept that at best is nebulous and subjective, and at worst is completely impossible to define. I began my wine career working for a large gourmet super market chain, and they have explicit standards of quality that determine which products are sold in their stores. This is similar to wine-guru Darrell Corti deciding not to sell table wines with over 14.5% alcohol in his family's Sacramento store. These decisions might be deemed arbitrary, capricious, or even hypocritical, but I think it's necessary to draw the line somewhere. Besides, how can you actually take a stand and believe in anything without being at least a bit of a hypocrite?

I really want to know what people think makes a quality wine. I'm not talking about preferences, just because you like something doesn't make it good, and vice versa. (I rocked out to Gino Vanelli's "I Just Wanna Stop" on the way home from work tonight - I love that song, but I'm not going to argue that it's of high quality. Conversely, I'm not a big fan of Marty Scorcese's films, but I respect them.) I'm not talking about merit either, the whole "XXX wine is the worlds greatest white wine." The question is basically, what's the difference between a good bottle of table wine and Thunderbird?

There are some simple background answers. Thunderbird is made from vineyards allowed to produce extremely high quantities of fruit (yields), it fortified with low grade grain alcohol, there's added sugar and stabilizers meant to both speed up the production process and extend the shelf life. Thunderbird is an industrial product, made in huge quantities.

This example is obviously an extreme - few of us drink Thunderbird (without irony at least). Industrial production isn't anathema to quality either - Dom Perignon and Cristal are made in astounding quantity and are exceptional products considering. The spirit of the question remains. Where do we as individuals draw the line on quality? Do you have to actually know something about wine to decide what quality is?

Personally, I feel like a quality wine is made with grapes and the barest minimum of required additives (cultured yeast, acid, sugar, and sulfur used as little as possible if at all). The grapes should be grown in a regional with a moderate climate, and the yields should be reasonable. The wine should be treated as minimally and as naturally as possible - no oak chips, no de-alcoholization. This is the ideal, but not every quality wine will meets all (or any) of these requirements. Obviously, all of this stuff comes from my knowledge and experience of wine.

I believe that much of the wine industry uses the general ignorance of consumers to pass of bad wine as quality. Two Buck Chuck is an easy target (basically just box-wine, bottled in glass and marked up), but the trickery comes at all levels. No winery in Napa will tell their costumers that they remove a degree or two of alcohol after fermentation from their expensive cabernet sauvignon.

I'd love to hear what people think defines quality. What do you look for when you drink wine? When you think a wine is really good, why? Is there a common theme throughout different types of "quality" wines? Does enjoying a wine mean it's good? Does a wine have to be good to enjoy it?Think about it. Pour yourself a glass, and take just a few seconds to ask yourself what it is you're tasting. Let me know - I'm really curious.

July 06, 2007

Sometimes it seems like I can’t catch a break. Just as I was starting to get my blog momentum going after a couple weeks of travel, I got struck down by a cold. It’s a total drag, since I was planning on taking place in the Vendredi du Vin hosted by Olif the Blogger... (I had it all planned out, there’s a bottle of CamutPommeau in my fridge right now, waiting to be opened - alas it’ll have to wait until another time, and I’ll have to wait until the last vendredi of Juillet to participate.)

Once I got back into the swing of things at work, I got another kicker - my best friend Benjamin (B) is buying the entire California allocation of Thierry Puzelat’s Telquel for the large gourmet supermarket chain that he works for. My initial response was disappointment, since this means that none of this delicious wine will be available for the shop where I work - but so what, I’m leaving in September anyway, and I can get B to buy some of the wine for me.

Ultimately, I’m pleased that this deal is going down - it’s a bit of a worlds collide thing for me, involving one of my oldest and best friends, another friend who’s been a regular source of inspiration in my wine career (Keven), and a new(ish) friend who I want with all my heart to be successful at what she’s doing (Shawn - and she is, quite) - respectively representing retailer, distributor, and importer. I can be a little rough on my friends (especially Benjamin, and especially when it comes to wine) - it makes me think of that Lemonheads record “Hate Your Friends” - but it’s affirming when the things that have meaning to me end up resonating with those I hold close.

Last night, while watching the fireworks at Alta Vista park, B opened a bottle of Puzelat Pinot Noir. It didn’t go over too well - B & Wade tasted it, and declared it “funky,” saying it had lots of brettanomyces. I held out hope, brought the bottle home, and am enjoying a glass right now - the air has done a lot for the wine, it’s all rich fruit and loamy earth right now. It’s ironic to me that Benjamin bought this wine from Chambers St - I’ve visited the estate twice, and have had dinner with Thierry and his brother Jean-Marie, but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it. I suppose this might be proof that the world indeed doesn’t revolve around me.

So, for Benjamin, and everyone else who’s reading this - here’s what I know about Thierry Puzelat and the Clos de Tue Bouef. (It’s not much to be sure, but hopefully enough to get somebody to try the wines.)

Thierry and Jean-Marie Puzelat tend their family holding in Cheverny called the Clos de Tue-Boeuf. They makes wines together under that name; a Cheverny Rouge called La Caillère, which is a blend of Pinot Noir and Gamay, a Touraine Rouge called La Guerrerie, a blend of Côt and Cabernet Sauvignon, and two Touraine Blancs, Le Buisson Pouilleux, a Sauvignon Blanc, and the stupendously delicious Le Brin de Chèvre, made from a little known cousin of Chenin Blanc called Menu Pineau. The brothers have been farming organically since the early ‘90’s, and Thierry in particular has pushed the envelope of natural winemaking, experimenting with not using sulfur.

Thierry also makes wines on his own, with a négociant label bearing his name. He makes Gamay (the afforementioned TelQuel), Pinot Noir (which is steadily disappearing from my glass as I write), Menu Pineau, Côt, and Pineau d’Aunis. He also makes a phenominal sparkling white in the méthode ancestral style, à la Bugey Cerdon. All of these wines are intriguing at the least, and delicious at their best. Thierry is active in the whole Vin Naturel scene (sorry Joe, but I had to mention it), and it’s common to find his wines at all of the hip Parisien wine bars.

Maybe Benjamin will get a chance to take the trip I’ve been lucky to participate in the last two years. Hopefully he’ll get to meet Thierry and Jean-Marie himself. I’ll be happy if he gets to make friends with the folks that I’ve been fortunate to meet over the years in my job, and see the vineyards and cellars that I often take for granted. (When he does he can just tell me to shut my trap when I get all high and mighty on him.) Above all, I hope I get to make that trip with him.

I suppose I'm feeling nostalgic because of my impending move. I'm going to miss Benjamin. I fear that I'll lose touch with the friends I've made in the wine business in San Francisco. I'm concerned that I won't be able to find wines like Puzelat's in TX. Above all, I want to pay tribute to all of these people, from my nearest and dearest to the vignerons who I've met too briefly. For me, the best thing about wine is the people - so in the end I raise the last sip in my glass of Pinot Noir to everybody who's shaped my experience and brought me where I am today.